


To Find a Muse

by Omlyt



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Author England, Depression, England is a mess, M/M, Second Chances, Writer's Block, Writing, arthur is a writer, muse searching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-02-25 13:52:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2624120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omlyt/pseuds/Omlyt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has been working a job he doesn't like to avoid the fact that he has hit a writer's block that is actually in the shape of a wall that hasn't lifted in a number of years. When his boss finds a book he wrote a long time ago, he gives Arthur the chance to continue writing and do anything he wants to find his muse, all expenses covered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Looking Up

Arthur could remember a time when words would simply flow from his fingertips at his will and whimsy. A time when he could write for hours and hours, without stopping and filling page upon page with words that genuinely meant something to him. When writing poetry satisfied a deep craving within his soul, each word a shovelful of dirt tossed into the deep and dark hole of his heart. When each word could be carved into the walls of his mind- anything from proclamations of love he would never utter, spewing hatred, or bubbling sadness.

 

Instead of putting pen to paper, Arthur remembered. It had been years since he had written for his own pleasure, much less for a book- something other than the dull reports he used to hand to his boss at work. He remembered all of the time that lead to his dry spell, his hands shaking as he recalled each moment. He didn’t want to remember, but the images came to him nonetheless. Now that he didn’t have those reports to write or those graphs to interpret, Arthur realized that he would have too much free time on his hands.

 

_Too much free time? How silly of me to think of such a thing._

 

His employment at the advertising firm he worked at ended abruptly and without a bang that morning. He was called into his boss’s office, just like every other Monday morning, but instead of letting Arthur hand over last week’s report, his boss held up a book with a very familiar cover. Arthur’s eyes had widened and his eyebrows rose almost to his hairline.

 

“Mr. Kirkland, you must understand my confusion,” the man behind the desk said quietly before placing the book onto the table. “So do please answer my question: What is a best-selling author doing working a mediocre job that they don’t even like?”

 

Arthur didn’t know how to respond. He found himself frozen in place, eyes fixated on the name printed on the cover just below the title. It took him a moment to gather the words to say. “Personal reasons, sir. I’d rather not divulge them.” He managed after a moment. He didn’t even want to bring up the fact that his boss had known that Arthur disliked his job. It wasn’t like he could really lie about that anyway.

 

“Well, I would personally pay you to write books. Genuinely and seriously.” Arthur looked up at his boss, his eyes meeting the other man’s. “I’m not joking Kirkland. You’re that great. I could sponsor you and get you signed on with a publishing company.”

 

“Sir, I-“ Arthur fumbled over his words for a moment, nearly rendered completely speechless. “I couldn’t ask that of you sir, I actually-“

 

“Kirkland, I am fully able to sponsor you to continue writing books. Hell, I’d pay you three times as much as you are now and cover all of your living expenses.” His boss nonchalantly said this, but the way he leaned into his desk and suggested otherwise. The man was being serious.

 

“Sir, I don’t write anymore because I hit some bad writer’s block.” Arthur finally blurted out. The statement was a simple explanation for something terribly complicated. It was more as if he had lost his muse entirely. He woke up one morning and just couldn’t find the words he wanted to write. But it wasn’t just one morning of writer’s block. One morning turned into a whole day, a day into a week and weeks into months and the pattern continued. He had no idea what to do anymore and found himself with depression. It took him a while to do so, but Arthur later went to a therapist who told him that maybe he should focus his attention elsewhere for some time. He took the advice and found a job- the one which seemed to hang in the balance because of the book he wrote some time ago.

 

“ _Arthur,_ ” the man sighed out his name while shaking his head. “You have some extreme talent that I wish I had. Hell, I have some ideas and I’d love to see you make them into a reality. I’d sign off the intellectual property of them to you and everything. Please, Arthur, I need to see more of your work.” The man was practically begging.

 

This was a crazy amount of unprofessionalism on his boss’s account, but he was offering him a one in a million chance. Well, not really one in a million, as Arthur had heard rumors of his boss sponsoring other artists as well. The idea simmered in his mind for a little bit, and he sighed and nodded.

 

“Okay, sir, but you must understand that it has been years since I last wrote.” The words were dark and grave, contrasting the excited look on his boss’s face. “You will have to be patient with me, because I completely lost my muse and it may take some time for me to create quality work.”

 

“I don’t think you understand how much this means to me, Kirkland. You can have all the time you need, just as long as I can get updates on what’s going on with you. I will have a contract set up tomorrow morning, so that we can get this official and rolling then. I assume that you’d want to leave this job so that you’d have time for writing? I’ll pay you the rest of your wages for the month so that you’ll have some cash before everything’s official.” The man was speaking at a thousand miles an hour, his hands flying about in an animated way as he grew more and more excited. “Hell, take the rest of the day off to clear out your desk and prep your creative space- you have a creative space, right?” Arthur blinked at this question, wondering if he still did. He vaguely remembered having one, but since he started working, it started getting cluttered.

 

Well, his whole apartment was just a space for him to live and no longer a space where he could feel that creative spark anymore. He also never had the time or money to go rent out a quiet space, or go out anywhere outside the bounds of his apartment. And to top it off, lately he didn’t like going out in public anymore, so it ruled out cafes, libraries and almost any other place. All he really had was his desk at home, which he rarely sat at anyway and was the last place he ever wanted to write.

  
“I don’t, sir.” He responded quietly. “I don’t think I ever really had one to begin with.” He was beginning to catch on to this, albeit apprehensively, but it was vaguely beginning to seem like a good thing.

 

“Go looking for one.”

 

“Excuse me, sir?” Arthur asked, his eyes widening.

 

“Go looking for one. If you’ve been in such a slump that made you come to work here, you need a new place. Since I can cover your living expense, you don’t have to worry about the cost.” His boss said this in a manner that made Arthur feel like he really should have known this.

 

“Sir, I understand the gesture, but what if I really liked the place I am at now? I mean, not only do I feel like I’d be taking advantage of your kindness, but I also feel like your offer is too good to be true.” Granted, he honestly and really didn’t anymore, but it was a good question. His boss was being incredibly pushy about him going back to his writing. Even though he really did appreciate the gesture, it was still bothering him just how much power over his personal life that his boss thought he had.

 

“You wouldn’t be asking that question if you did. And you know I sponsor local artists to do what their good at, rather than wasting their talents on making powerpoints or writing up reports that they don’t really care about. And I have more money than I know what to do with, so why not help out those with talent?” He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Arthur, didn’t you love writing?”

 

The last question threw Arthur off, even though the answer was a painfully loud and passionate “yes!” that resounded in his head. The words to express how much he missed writing, how much he loved it, just didn’t come to him. Instead, he nodded in response.

 

“Well, I love reading your writing, and I’d love it even more if I could read more. I’m offering you a chance to start over and do anything you want to or can to find your muse. Don’t you think a change in scenery might be the first step in finding it?”

 

Yet another question that left Arthur dumbstruck. The man behind the desk let Arthur absorb this for a while, the silence a tension that was slowly lessening between the two men.

 

“I’ll do it, Mr. Jones.” Arthur said confidently and finally. A large smile crept up on his boss’s face.

 

“You can call me Alfred.”

 

And with that, Arthur’s life took a second 180 degree turn back to his original calling. He sat at his desk in his old apartment that night with his head in his hands, still trying to completely understand what he had gotten himself into. After calling his therapist about the sudden change, the woman told him that maybe it was for the better, and that finally being able to move would be good for him. She then interjected that her approval of what was going on was not something she would usually do; but because she knew Arthur really missed writing, she thought that maybe it would be for the best.

 

At precisely midnight, he started cleaning up his apartment. He couldn’t sleep because of the excitement and worry he had anyway, so he decided to put his new free time to good use. There was no use in sitting about and worrying when he could have been cleaning, worrying, and getting his mind off of what was to happen tomorrow.

 

_Besides, you’d be getting paid to figure out how to get out of this writer’s block. Why should you fret? Is it because you’re scared to move on?_

 

He pushed away his thoughts and started with the area he was in to begin with- the cluttered desk with old books collecting dust, stiff papers with ink scribbles on them and the ancient laptop he always worked on. He hadn’t touched this particular area since the week after he lost his muse, and he figured that it would have been a bad idea to even bother trying to use it now. With as much dust that was settled on the books, he knew that there was just as much, if not more, dust inside the fan in the laptop.

 

He set the prehistoric laptop on his bed, considering taking it to be cleaned the next day. When he went back to the desk to continue cleaning, he paused and looked back at the pitiful thing sitting on top of his comforter. The way it sat there, sinking into the soft fabric, made Arthur think that maybe it missed him as much as he missed it. It was a goofy thought, but it was there nonetheless. A small smile came to his face, the first one he had that day, and he turned back around to start pulling things off the desk. There were still some good things on that computer anyway, so he considered it still valuable.

 

Around four o’clock that morning was when he climbed into bed. Accomplishment settled in, as well as exhaustion. With his room, his bathroom, kitchen and living room completely clean, he figured that maybe he had done enough and that his burning eyes and grogginess was enough to finally send him to bed. While he wouldn't remember it, Arthur would have a thought that he hadn’t had in a long time: _Maybe things are really looking up from here._

 


	2. Going Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Arthur is an idiot who is too stubborn for his own good. That's why he has others to help him with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness, I wasn't expecting to have another chapter out so early. I'm really excited though, because I managed to get this chapter to around 3,000 words. ^w^ Thanks to everyone who has commented and added kudos: you guys are awesome.

While it wasn’t the most happiest of lives to live, Arthur lived a comfortable one after his muse up and left him. He was so very far from happy, but he made enough money off of his last book to pay his bills and rent, to buy books and groceries and to put some away in his savings. He withdrew from his friends, and consequently, going out at all. He found it extremely hard to really talk to people anymore; conversation becomming so very hard to make, small talk seeming excruciatingly boring and tedious, and he felt like he was cumbersome to talk to. As he stopped being really trying to reach out to his friends, they slowly stopped talking to him and checking on him over the progression of the year.

 

At first he didn’t mind this.

 

Being alone was a great break from reality for him, as he was rather introverted to start. When he stopped talking to his friends, it was a welcomed short break but after a while, being alone really started to bother him. He began to avoid staying home for extended periods of time, spending his waking hours volunteering at the local library, or sitting and reading in various book stores in town. Purposefully, he removed any and all time to simply himself and any chance of being near his old work station. At first he didn’t realize his digression into this, but when he got sick and had to stay home, he finally realized that maybe he really was alone.

 

It was a scary situation for him, but over time, he grew acquainted with his old imaginary friends and became mildly less alone. There were a number of these imaginary creatures, and they were all forms of mythical animals and classic fantasy characters that he used to study. Even though each one was drastically different, they all had the same goal: to keep Arthur company and try their best to lighten his mood.

 

Arthur was originally extremely freaked out by the sudden reappearance of the creatures that used to haunt his daydreams. He constantly tried to deny the fact that they existed and for a while, had convinced himself that he was going insane. It was actually around this point in time when Arthur started going to see his therapist. It was about two months into his unintentional silence with his friends, and it was then when it was decided that it would be best for him to get a job. No more wandering from book store to book store, or shelving books in the library; He was to get a job and try to move on.

 

And that’s how he ended up at Jones Advertising.

 

Arthur didn’t reflect on how he came to be affiliated with Jones Advertising as he was walking up the stairs to the front door of the office building. Instead, he was panicking and trying to really decide if signing on with Mr. Jones was a good idea. He knew he still had time to back out and perhaps that was exactly why he was freaking out- he was scared of making the wrong choice. When he put his hand on the door handle to pull it, he found himself frozen in place. Anxiety was already riddling his senses, but this was a step too far. Paralyzed, he continued to battle with himself, his body frozen as the world continued to move around him.

 

“You can do it, Arthur.” A small voice said from his shoulder, its soft tone a beacon of calm in his crazed panic. The tension in his shoulders started to dissipate as he realized that the voice was actually in his head, and not someone he knew. A small, potato-sized, mint green bunny with wings sat on his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. “It’ll be fine, go on.”

 

The last statement enticed Arthur pull the door open and step through. He made a bee line for the bathroom in the lobby and closed himself into a stall, pressing his back against the flimsy red door. Even though the bathroom was generally well cleaned and taken care of, a stale smell still lingered in the room. Regretfully, he took in a deep breath of the strangely scented air and pressed his hands to his face.

 

_What the hell am I doing? I mean, I’m here, but..._

“There’s nothing to lose, Arthur.” The bunny said, moving to fly in front of Arthur’s face, making him move his hands. “Come on, I know you’re worried, but you’re getting a great chance here.”

 

 _I don’t know if I’m ready to go back to… writing again._ Arthur’s face was construed in a frightful manner: his monster eyebrows meeting in the furrow made between them and his lips were pursed into a very thin line.

“You never will be with that attitude.”

 

_You’re right, Flying Mint Bunny… But-_

“No more ‘but’s, Arthur! You’ve been so unhappy and a chance to move on from that just popped up right in front of you! What are you scared of?” Flying Mint Bunny flew as close as he could to Arthur, practically bumping heads with his human.

 

_What if they don’t like what I write? What if my style completely changes? What if-_

“Listen to yourself, Arthur. Mr. Jones really likes what you can do and believes in you. If he doesn’t like what you write, you can try something else or back out if they’ll let you. Just try it first.” Flying Mint Bunny offered a small smile and touched his nose to Arthur’s. “Please? Just try it.”

 

 _Fine._ And with that last thought, Arthur pushed himself out of the bathroom stall and back into the lobby. It was strange going back into this building not as an employee. Even though all of the security guys knew him and nodded at him as he passed by, Arthur felt unconventionally out of place. He wore the same work casual clothes that he would normally wear to work, so he seemed to fit in, but his intentions were different.

 

When he got into the elevator, he was alone. He watched as the floors flew by through the windows, the business of other people standing in the hallway or walking from one office to the next. He always liked this part of his morning arrival to work, even if it did seem kind of creepy to watch other people. It was a quick and simple glimpse into what their mornings were like and Arthur enjoyed it.

 

But beyond his moment of people watching, Arthur didn’t really enjoy much else of his mornings at this job. The coffee in the office kitchen was terrible, the people he usually had to interact with were a bunch of idiots, and his boss had a tendency to be overly obnoxious in the morning. A number of other things could easily make his day even worse from there, but Arthur realized that he didn’t have to deal with situations like that anymore- save for the possibility of having to deal with his obnoxious boss.

 

He got to the top floor and to Mr. Jones’s office quickly, the secretary letting him know that he was expected and motioning him towards the door.

 

It was here where Arthur froze once more, but the woman staring at him made him jump out of it. He strode over to the door and forced himself to open the door and go in.

 

“Ah, Kirkland, nice to see you.” Mr. Jones’s voice resounded in the room, his tone bordering on strangely happy to see him. Arthur felt quite the opposite as his innards did an impossible flip that left him feeling even more uncomfortable. The man behind the desk motioned to a pair of seats across the room and said, “please, take a seat” as he came out from behind the desk.

 

Arthur had never noticed how tall and imposing his boss was until that very moment. Despite feeling intimidated, however, Arthur obeyed and made his way to sit down in the chair. Mr. Jones plopped down in the one across from him, papers in hand.

 

“Okay, so here’s the deal. You’re allowed to back out of this contract whenever you want to and all parts of this contract will be dissolved. I’ll pay you three times your current wage, but instead on an hourly basis, it will be based on an update schedule. Every week, I will come by and you will fill me in with what progress you’ve been making. Is there a specific day in which you’d want me to come in?” Mr. Jones reached over and handed Arthur a copy of the contract that he was going over.

 

“Um… Sir, I don’t know.” Arthur said.

 

“Would Friday afternoons work? I usually get out early on Fridays and it would be easy for me to come in directly from here.” His boss stared at him quizzically from over his glasses frames.

 

“Yes, sir. I suppose so.”

 

“Okay then. I have also agreed to paying your living fees, including rent and bills. A separate account will be created in which the funds for both of those will be put. The only access I will have to this account is to put money in and cancel it with advance warning to you if need be. You will be allowed to sign off on the payments and cancel the account with an advance warning to me.

 

“What I will be paying you- the aforementioned wage- will be deposited in your account at the end of each payment period. Your living expenses are separate from this.” A sigh left the man’s lips, his eyes narrowing some. “I honestly hate going over this stuff. Would you mind reading through it yourself and letting me know if you need clarification or need something changed? I feel really sleepy and I don’t have another appointment scheduled until later today.” A yawn rolled out of his mouth, as if on cue.

 

“I wouldn’t mind, sir.” Arthur said, very glad for the chance to go over the paper work alone. Mr. Jones nodded before putting his feet up on the coffee table between them and putting his hands behind his head.

 

The contract was rather simple in its terms, but Arthur paid attention to each detail offered. His eyes scanned each word and he did ask questions as needed and got good answers in return. By the time he was through, only thirty minutes had passed.

 

“You done already? Wow.” Mr. Jones said with a small laugh, not looking at Arthur. “So, do you need me to add something in there?”

 

“Everything seems to be in order, except for the terms of the updates I am supposed to do. Do I need official reports? What would they look like? What are you looking for in means of progress?” Before another question could be thrown at his boss, he was interrupted.

 

“No official reports, just a quick summary of what you’ve done. Our meetings will really just be conversational, so if you want, you can take notes or something from them. And progress is whatever you make it out to be, Kirkland. I know you’ve been stuck for a while, so I understand if it takes you time.”

 

“That is all I have in that respect then.” Arthur said quietly.

 

“Do you agree to the terms provided in the contract?” Mr. Jones asked.

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Go ahead and sign it. Last page, dotted line. Sign, initial, and date it please” Arthur did as told, flipping to the last page and filling out that small section.

 

“And now you’re a free man, Kirkland.” Mr. Jones said with a laugh. “You no longer have to stay in this dinky office, but you’re free to do what you please.” He sat up, putting his feet back down on the ground. “I’ll give you my cell number just in case you need anything.”

 

Arthur typed the digits into his phone, saved it and did a test call as Mr. Jones had asked him to do. It was a quick and simple process that seemed to be the sealing factor on all of this. Maybe it was because Arthur figured that Mr. Jones didn’t give out his cell phone number to random people.

 

Nonetheless, the meeting was over. They both stood and shook hands before Arthur turned to leave the room. As Arthur had opened the door to leave, Mr. Jones called out to him.

 

“Text me when you start looking for a new place, okay?”

 

To this, Arthur simply nodded  and he left without another word.

\--

“See! That wasn’t too bad, was it?”

 

“Shut up Flying Mint Bunny.” Arthur grumbled, running a hand through his hair before putting it back onto the steering wheel. He was on his way to the local computer parts shop to fix his laptop and it was taking him so much longer to get there than it should have.

 

“But you did it! Okay? And you’re even going to get your laptop cleaned- Arthur, do you know what this means? You’ll be able to really do something you like for once!” The flying bunny flitted around in circles in the back seat.

 

“I told you to shut up, didn’t I?” Arthur sighed and shook his head. The imaginary creature was right, and quite frankly, he was too stubborn to admit it. “Oh, bloody hell!” The words flew out of his mouth as the car in front of his came to a sudden stop, forcing him to apply the brakes in a terribly abrupt manner.

 

“You shouldn’t drive angry Arthur.” The bunny said, suppressing a giggle.

 

“Again, shut your bloody mouth.” Arthur hissed the words and nothing else was said for the duration of the drive. It took them about ten extra minutes, but when they arrived, Arthur quickly left the car and snatched up his laptop from the front seat. He walked swiftly to the front door, despite Flying Mint Bunny’s callings after him and went in.

 

The storefront was small and rather dingy, but inside it was neat and well kept up. Arthur had known the owners and only employees of the place, but only on a professional level that made it easy for the British man to come in and approach them.

 

“Arthur? Is that you?” A heavily accented voice came from behind the counter, usually distant dark eyes lightening up. The body that matched the voice was a petite Japanese man, dressed in a white dress shirt, jeans and a dark blue apron with pockets for tools- just as he looked on the last day Arthur had come in. “Oh wow, that is you. Welcome back.” Arthur offered a small, but not long lasting smile to the man behind the counter.

 

“Hello Kiku. Do you still do computer cleanings?” Quick, polite and straight to the point: just as he had practiced in his mind. He usually tried to avoid conversation, but for the sake of simply being a gentleman, Arthur couldn’t help but oblige.

 

“Yes, we do. Did you bring yours in? We haven’t had very many customers lately, so I could do it now, if you wish.” Kiku waited until Arthur held out his laptop to reach out to take it from him. The tiniest of grins graced the Japanese man’s face as he inspected the device in his hands. “I can’t believe you still have this.” He said incredulously and stifling a laugh. Arthur felt his face drop.

 

“Well, I haven’t had the need to use a laptop in a while, and it is the only one I know so…” His words trailed off and ended with a sharp intake of breath. As he spoke, his gaze had fallen to the white and light blue tiles on the floor, so he snapped his attention back up to Kiku’s. “It should still work, I think. Just needs a cleaning.”

 

“I’ll see what I can do.” Kiku said warmly. He placed the laptop on the counter and went into the back to grab some things. Now by himself, Arthur began to look about the store, checking out what he had missed out on since he had last been in here. Some of the isles had been moved and showcases brought in, but it was almost still the same little store he felt at home in. It was almost sweet, in a way, that the place still looked like it did so long ago. Arthur didn’t even notice that the stress of having to come in and talk to someone was slowly fading away. It was strange how familiar places could do that to you.

 

Kiku had come back out with a small tool box and had pulled a stool up to the counter. He began to work, his hands unscrewing things and dusting them off as he went along- the epitome of efficient. It didn’t take him long, but by the time he was done, Arthur was done browsing the store and came back up to the counter.

 

“I am done now. Cleaning fee is fifteen dollars.” Kiku said as he screwed the last piece into place. Arthur nodded at this and pulled out right amount of cash. The transaction was quick and painless and his laptop was handed over at the end of it all.

 

“Thank you, Kiku. I should be back soon, I guess.” At this, the man behind the counter nodded and waved.

 

“Have a good day.” Kiku called out as Arthur left.

 

Upon getting back into his car, Flying Mint Bunny had said nothing and only hummed along to the song playing on the radio. Arthur would usually fuss at the imaginary creature, but he ultimately found himself humming along as well, finding the words comforting to him.

 

_You were right. Things do seem to be getting better now._


	3. Upside Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which panic ensues and a strange decision is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out, guys, but it took a long time to write out everything. On the upside- its 4000 words! I'm pretty proud of that, if I do say so myself. I'm going to be honest, it may not be perfect, but I'll reread it tomorrow morning and finish editing it. I just wanted to get it posted this morning/night. It's 1:00am right now, and this is Omlyt, signing off.

His laptop crapped out on him within the first couple of minutes of it booting up. He was so excited once he heard the whirr of life stirring within it; however, after that whirr continued for another minute, something started making a horrendous and repetitive clicking noise that sparked some other reaction that made a small poof of a flame jump from the keyboard. Being the sensitive system it was, the fire alarm went off at the first sign of smoke.

 

_Oh shit! Where’s the fire extinguisher?_

 

After the fire was put out, Arthur called the front office of the complex and told them that there wasn't a fire and there was no damage, passing it off on some burnt toast. As burning food was a common occurrence in Arthur's apartment, the woman on the phone obliged and told him that she would go turn it off herself. About three minutes after she hung up, the blaring noise was turned off.

 

Arthur declared that the laptop would probably never run again, and if it did, it wouldn’t ever be the same again. Despite yesterday’s cleaning, it managed to still be incredibly messed up. Frustration bubbled in his throat, curses spilling out as he drew his hand through his hair. He groaned and started to pace his room, knowing that he would have to search for an apartment the hard way: with newspapers and other ads. He was okay with this but he was still upset by the loss of his old works.

 

It was in this moment, however, that his phone buzzed. Arthur threw a glance towards it before scooping it up and reading over the text.

 

 _“You found a place yet?”_ The text read. Arthur’s lips pursed at this and he pressed the dial button.

 

“Hey, Kirkland, what’s up?” The voice on the other end of the call was obnoxiously happy. Arthur had to bite back a sarcastic comment that would probably end him up on Mr. Jones’s bad side.

 

“You had texted me at the right time, sir.” Arthur sighed, again scraping a hand over his scalp. “My laptop caught on fi- I mean crashed. It crashed and I can’t seem to get it back on.” Arthur had a decidedly flat tone to his voice that was barely borderline concerned. While he didn’t seem to be panicking, Arthur was on the verge of wanting to just throw his phone across the room and discontinue using devices that would make him more “efficient.” At the moment, his biggest worry was if one thing crashed on him, what was stopping the other things from crashing too?

 

“Oh! That’s an easy fix. We can go out and get you a new one.”  


“But, sir, I don’t want a new one.” His lips pursed and his eyebrows knitted. “All of my old stuff is on the one that crashed.”

 

“We can see if we can switch out the hard drives or something else like that. I can swing by in, say, ten minutes so I can help you pick out a new one. That’s alright with ya’, Kirkland?” Mr. Jones seemed so cheerily calm about the situation, and it was starting to get on Arthur’s nerves. Granted, the idea that he was overacting lingered in the back of his mind, but he didn’t really consider it as his heart started thrumming in his chest and his head started feeling light. The weight of the loss of something so important to him hit him like a brick.

 

“Ye-yeah…” He choked on his own words as his lungs seemed to tighten. His voice had grown small and distant- a stark contrast to his previous stern tone. A dull ache started in his head and his lips started tingling. It took him a moment to realize that he was beginning to hold his breath.

 

“Kirkla- Arthur, are you alright?” Worry overtook the voice on the other end. “You don’t sound very good.”

 

“I’m… I’m fine.” Arthur swallowed thickly and found himself struggling to get air into his lungs. He tried taking in deep breaths, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to get enough into his system. “Actually, no, I’m not.” he corrected.  “How soon,” he took in another shaky breath, “can you get here?”

 

“I can be there in about five minutes.” Arthur barely noted that five minutes was significantly shorter than the previously mentioned ten. “I’m walking out the door now. Where do you live?”

 

“The apartment complex three blocks right of Main St, building nine, room three on the second floor.” The words were forced out all at once, a memorized set of instructions. It was strange how smooth the words seemed to come out of his mouth. Even in his usual state, it would have taken him a little bit longer to actually say it.

 

“Alright. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Do I need to call someone? 911 or something?”

 

“No… I don’t think so.”

 

“Stay on the phone with me. I’m almost there, but just in case you can’t call me if you do need something…” Mr. Jones’s voice trailed off, as if he was trying to find another way to justify this. Arthur genuinely didn’t care; he was just focusing on freaking out because he couldn’t seem to breathe.

 

Well, maybe it was more than not being able to breathe. He couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but there was more going on than just that. Overall, the sharp pain now hitting his temples and eyes, tingling and numbness in his lips, arms and legs all hinted at hyperventilation. His mind raced, even as he tried focusing on breathing, with all sorts of thoughts. Would something else crash on him? Should he really be trying to continue writing? Why should he even try? Many questions like these flew through his mind as he desperately tried to control his breathing.

 

“Arthur? How’re you doing over there?” The phone had been lowered from his ear as he had moved to sit down on the couch, a hand on his head in an effort to open up his lungs.

 

“I’m… I’m here.” Arthur replied weakly. He put his phone on speaker and lifted his other hand up. His neck was starting to get tired, and he let his head fall back, his eyes shutting.

 

“Just checking… I’m pulling into the complex now. What’s the password to the gate?” Arthur’s eyes flew open at the thought of this. He didn’t remember it! No matter what he did, he couldn’t find the combination of the four numbers in his mind. His breathing hitched some and he let out a choked cough.

 

“I-I don’t know! Oh, I do-“ He let out another cough, “I don’t know… I’m so sorry…” As he started speaking, his eyes welled up in panic.

 

“It’s okay, Arthur. I’ll just go park in the front and get in through the front office. Just keep focusing on what you need to focus on, okay?” Mr. Jones’s tone softened some. There was a click of the seatbelt from the other end and the sound of the door opening. Arthur did as told and tried to move his thoughts away from the previous incident. He closed his eyes once more and kept counting seconds as he breathed; only slightly listening to any other noise coming from the other end.

 

“ _Excuse me ma’am, I’m Alfred Jones, can you let me through? It’s an emergency with Arthur Kirkland in building nine, room three on the second floor.”_

_“No, sir, I can’t. Not without express permission from Kirkland himself. I can call him to see if I can let you up.”_

_“He’s currently on the phone with me. I think he might be hyperventilating, so when he called, I left the line open in case he needed anything.”_

_“I’ll have to call and check myself, sir. Please bear with me, or I will have to call security.”_

_“Oh! Um, yes ma’am. I’m sorry.”_

_“Okay, he isn’t answering his phone, and there’s a busy tone. Can I talk to him- to verify?”_

_“Yes ma’am. Here.”_

_“Arthur? You there?”_

 

_In, one two three four five six seven…_

“Y-yes… Ms. Elizabeta? Is Mr. Jones there…? Yo-you can let him up…”

 

_Out, six five four three two one…_

 

_“Okay… I’ll accompany him.”_

_  
“Can I go up?”_

_“Yes, just follow me.”_

Time passed much faster than he thought it did, and a knock came from the door. Arthur stood up slowly and went to open it. On the other side of the door stood Mr. Jones and the receptionist from the front office, the woman staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

 

“I’m… I’m sorry for any trouble I’ve caused Ms. Elizabeta. I should ha-have known the gate code…” He managed through deep breaths. She nodded, her long brown hair starting to fall in her face. She glanced up at Mr. Jones and then nodded.

 

“It’s okay. I just needed to check if he really was supposed to be here. He told me he was on the phone with you and that it was an emergency. Couldn’t really take any chances, so I tried calling, and I got a busy tone.” She gave a forced smile. “I’ll be going now.” She said quickly before she turned on her heel and started back down the stairs.

 

Arthur took a step to the side, his hands back to their place on the top of his head. Mr. Jones came in and closed the door behind him, taking a step back in the small entryway to inspect the shorter man.

 

“You _are_ hyperventilating.” He said quietly, cocking his head to the side. Arthur was rather surprised that Mr. Jones wasn’t panicking. The taller man nodded his head towards the living room, as if asking permission to go in further. “Let’s get you sitting down.” Arthur followed Mr. Jones into the room, and did as told.

 

“I used to have anxiety attacks that messed with my asthma. It may have only happened a few times, but I hyperventilated…” The taller man sat down next to Arthur and handed him a pillow. “This is going to sound stupid, but breathe into that, okay? You’re taking in too much oxygen and not letting the carbon dioxide get into your system.” Arthur drew his legs into his chest and put the pillow between his knees and his face.

 

They sat in silence like this for a little while, Arthur breathing into the pillow and Mr. Jones sitting beside him comfortably. It wasn’t a bad kind of silence though, where there is a sense of heavy awkwardness. Granted, there was still awkwardness, but the way Mr. Jones seemed to be totally at ease in the situation really made things much better.  


When Arthur finally withdrew his face from his pillow, he looked over at Mr. Jones. “Thank you,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to worry you or pull you away from whatever you were doing.” His lips pursed and his face went back into the pillow.

 

“Don’t worry about it, really. I’m just glad I could help. You feeling any better?” Mr. Jones pushed his back from against the back of the couch and leaned forward to look at Arthur, his hands intertwined in his lap. Arthur found it so weird how concerned the other man was, seeing as they didn’t know each other very well, but he nodded in response to his question.

 

“So, you’re really worried about not being able to salvage your old work?” Mr. Jones asked. Again, Arthur nodded.

 

“There are some really good ideas on there, as well as the drafts and final copies of my last couple of books.” Arthur sighed, closing his eyes. “A lot of things that are really important to me are on that laptop.”

  
“We can see if we can get it all on a cloud drive or something like that, so that if your next computer crashes again, all of your stuff will still be safe.” Arthur appreciated the solution, and nodded. His nodding was getting repetitive, but he was almost too tired to speak. His body was so tense and his head pounded. “But before we do any of that, you look like you need a pain killer or something. Your head must be killing you.” Mr. Jones stood up and ran a hand through his hair before and merely stood, as if he were going to go grab some ibuprofen or something from his own medicine cabinet. Arthur stared up at him for a moment and realized something with a sudden pang: _Why the hell did I let come in and help me like this?_

 

It was a strange question to contemplate and an even stranger one when he realized that neither the green bunny nor any of his other imaginary friends had come up in this situation. Arthur had had anxiety attacks before, and usually he would work through them with the help of those creatures.

 

Arthur stood after a moment, trying to ignore the pain in his head that seemed to double when he got to his feet. He hissed through his teeth and then squinted, trying to reduce the pounding going on right in his eyebrows. As he walked towards the kitchen, it started to go away, but he still took a pain killer. When he was ready to go back out, Arthur stood in the archway between the two rooms.

 

“You want some tea or something? It’s the least I can do for you coming over here.” Arthur hugged himself in a defensive way, as if he had been caught indecently dressed rather than having an anxiety attack. It was so weird to know that he had been so vulnerable towards Mr. Jones, but the man was making no comment on it and simply seemed to work his way around it. It bothered Arthur to see the man he respected so much and had been ranked higher than him seem so strangely understanding of his situation.

 

“Erm, I don’t actually drink tea. Do you have coffee?” At this, Arthur’s lips pursed some in thought. He really didn’t have any good coffee, only the orange-flavored instant coffee that one of his friends had brought over once before. In fact, the reason why it was left behind was because his friend had thought it tasted terrible.

 

“In all honesty, I do, but it is instant coffee that tasted bad before it sat on the counter for a couple of years.” Arthur deadpanned. Mr. Jones chuckled then shrugged.

 

“I was looking less for taste and more for caffeine. I could probably make it myself if you wanted me to.” He took a step forward but Arthur beat Mr. Jones to the kitchen. Besides, he didn’t want him to have to rummage about his kitchen, and in the process make a mess.

 

“I’ll make it. You can come in here, though…” Arthur really didn’t want to be alone, even if the other man was just in the other room. It was nice of him to offer, but he had already done so much already.

 

“Alrighty then.” Mr. Jones strode into the kitchen and proceeded to stand in the corner, albeit awkwardly. He watched as Arthur put the teapot boiling and then prepared the coffee in the microwave.

 

“I’m really sorry to have called you over here… It just happened and you had perfect timing.” Arthur said quietly as he pulled the coffee mug from the microwave.

 

“S’fine, Arthur. Really, it is.” Mr. Jones crossed his arms and leaned against the counter he was next to. “The meeting was ending, I was pretty close by and I just so happened to have texted you at the perfect time.” He paused for a moment to take the coffee mug that Arthur held out for him. “Besides, I feel bad for having to intrude as I had. This is your personal life and I’m your boss, but you really did seem like you needed help…” He winced as he took a sip, both at the temperature of the drink and the really bad taste. Nonetheless, he took another sip.

 

“Thank you, though. Saved me a trip to the ER.” Arthur pulled his arms back around himself. There was no way that he was going to admit that he didn’t really have anyone else to call. Even though he had lost most of his dignity in the anxiety attack, he still had a little bit left.

 

After a small bout of silence, the taller of the two men spoke. “Think you might be up to getting a new computer today, or do you want to wait a while? I pretty much have the rest of the day off, and I really don’t want to go back home quite yet.” Mr. Jones took another sip of the coffee, winced and made a terrible face, and then took another. Arthur stared up at him with an incredulous countenance.

 

“I guess I would.” He said quietly, looking down suddenly. “I mean, if you don’t have anything else to do, and I need a computer to work…” He closed his eyes and shrugged, trying to relieve the tension that was building in his shoulders. “Yeah- yes, I’m up to it.”

 

A shrill whistle went off, startling Arthur, and he went to go tend to the teapot. He pulled a mug down from the shelf and quickly poured himself some tea. When he was done tending to it, he held it to his chest and took in a deep breath of its herbal scent.

 

Mr. Jones had watched the spectacle with a small grin; however it disappeared as he finished off the rest of the acrid liquid. He placed the mug off to the side and then turned to look back at Arthur once more.

 

“Today’s been weird, hasn’t it?” Mr. Jones said, a bit of laughter in his voice. At this, Arthur nodded, laughing nervously along with the other man. “I mean, it is awkward having the guy who’s been looking over the reports you made, hired you and is just overall awesome,” he added on the last bit with a proud grin. Arthur just rolled his eyes and assumed an indifferent expression as he continued. “Coming over and helping you through an episode of hyperventilation and then sticking around. We don’t even know each other very well, but I’m glad you called me.”

 

“Oh, really?” Arthur relaxed slightly, the smallest of smiles crossing his lips as he tilted his head back some. It was strange just how much talking about the awkwardness helped break the strange atmosphere. Arthur was beginning to feel a little bit more like himself: his wits and sarcasm slowly making their appearance.

 

“Of course! I got to help you, didn’t I?” Mr. Jones settled back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “And look: you’re smiling. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile, actually. You’ve got a nice smile- keeps your eyebrows from looking like a giant caterpillar.” Arthur could feel a heat in his cheeks rising and he immediately looked down to the floor. He wasn’t sure if he should be embarrassed about his smile or about his eyebrows- either way, he wasn’t going to look Mr. Jones in the eye.

 

“Whereas you’re always smiling, aren’t you?” Arthur responded, his words muffled by his mug as he took a sip to hide his blush.

 

“Actually, no.” Mr. Jones’s reply was quickly given, and his smile fell. “Not anymore. There’s a lot going on with the… missus.” Arthur was rather astounded by the other man’s sudden despondency. Mr. Jones’s shoulders had slumped and the brightness in his eyes had disappeared. It was as if the life was sucked out of him in mere seconds.

 

“I’m sorry,” was all Arthur felt like he could offer. Mr. Jones shook his head and found a tile on the floor to stare at.

 

“Mind if I confide in you, Arthur?” He didn’t really wait for a verbal answer and seemed to take nodding shadow that Arthur cast onto the floor as a yes. “I think it’s really weird that I’m willing to tell you this, but it may have something to do with the fact that I want to even this out. You had your moment of vulnerability, so why not have my own, right?” He laughed weakly. “The meeting I came from was actually one to sign the divorce papers. She’s not really my wife anymore, I guess. She wasn’t happy with me. I came home late, was on the phone most of the time, and I never really came to bed. She told me it was like living with a ghost- I ate the food left on the fridge, left dirty clothes in the hamper and took new ones, slept in another room so I wouldn’t wake her up when I did finally go to bed… She’s such a light sleeper too, and it takes her forever to go to sleep… We loved each other so much, but it just wasn’t working. We even tried to make it work, but it just… it just never did. So, here I am, spilling my guts to some guy I hired to write and I’m so sorry Arthur.”

 

“Who ended up with the house?” Arthur asked after a little bit of silence. He knew how all of splitting up of property went- his parents were divorced when he was a kid.

 

“She’s going to have it when all of this is processed.”

 

“Well, it seems as if I’m going to be looking for a new place to live. We could probably find a place and split the lease or something.” Arthur mumbled out his suggestion. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to go through with it, but Mr. Jones seemed like he really needed a place to stay. “If you wanted to, I mean.”

 

“…You’d really let me do that?” Mr. Jones asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

“You don’t seem like the type who would handle being on their own after a divorce, if I am to be frank with you. And if you really aren’t home all that much, I think it would work out. As long as you aren’t too loud, you clean up after yourself, don’t mess with my things and don’t bring people over without a warning, I think it’d work out.” He wasn’t sure where all of this was coming from, but he was relatively fine with it. Mr. Jones seemed to be on board with the idea.

 

“Wow, Arthur, that’s… Really cool of you, actually.”

 

“Break any of those rules and you’ll be looking for a new roommate.” Arthur interjected, finally making eye contact. Mr. Jones’s eyes had widened some, as if he wasn’t expecting Arthur to be serious.

 

“You’ve got a deal.” He said, his shoulders relaxing and a relieved tone in his voice. Arthur couldn’t believe was he was seeing in front of him- the great and powerful Alfred Jones wanting to live with him? The whole situation was like an all too real vivid nightmare. Considering how much the both of them had been through in the day, Arthur figured that maybe that they were both acting on nerves.

 

“Do you still want to go computer-hunting?” Mr. Jones asked, his eyes shimmering with hope. He looked like a cat that had been cooped up inside for much too long or a puppy who had been kicked. Arthur snorted at the sight and shrugged.

 

“Not really, but I’ll go anyway.” The words came out like a sigh and Mr. Jones practically jumped up to attention and started scrambling about, as if he were trying to find Arthur’s shoes for him. It was such an odd sight, seeing his boss be like this.

 

 _He’s not like a cat; he’s definitely like some kind of dog._ He thought as he went into the front doorway to slip them on. Mr. Jones bounded in front of him to open the door. Securing his keys in his hand, Arthur followed the taller man out.

 

_Everything’s turned upside down, hasn’t it? Oh goodness, what have I gotten myself into…?_


	4. Or Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they find a new place and Arthur is still a stubborn idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So sorry for this chapter being so late! With finals and everything, I totally lost track of time and the stress was just killer.
> 
> Nonetheless! Happy holidays! And happy 2015! I hope everyone has a great New Year.

 “What do you think about this place?” Mr. Jones asked, his hands thrust into his jacket pockets. He had leaned back slightly, looking up and around. The landlord of the complex had stepped out with the realtor, leaving the two men to talk in private.

 

Arthur really liked the place. It was extremely spacious; the living room was huge, with windows that were floor to ceiling and facing the city. There was even a small area that was a step down from the living room that was perfect for setting up a desk. The orange light that streamed through the windows lit up the white walls in the most wonderful way and Arthur was sure that it was one of the most beautiful colors that he had ever seen. The streaks of light even reached the kitchen, which was open to the living room with the exception of the island counter in the middle of the space.

 

Off to the right of the kitchen was a hallway that extended down to two equally sized rooms. Mr. Jones had already claimed the one that didn’t have a window facing the sun, saying that he would complain about the light. Arthur didn’t have an issue with this, as the window in the room left for him was large and had a window seat. There was a bathroom at the very end of hallway that they’d have to share, but Arthur was rather okay with this because there was a fair amount of space for them to store their things.

 

It was one of the best apartments he had seen in the past few days.

 

“I really like it, actually.” The writer replied. “I mean, as long as I can use that space in that corner for a desk set-up.”

 

“You can do whatever you want with the space. Seriously. All I really need is my room, a drawer in the bathroom and occasional use of the couch or whatever we put in here. Actually, your couch would look really good in here. It has a nice Victorian feel to it.” Mr. Jones was beaming, his excitement worn in his expression.

 

“I bet we could move in quickly too. You’re almost fully packed, aren’t you, Mr. Jones?” Arthur started to meander towards the windows mindlessly, his tiredness showing. They had been looking at apartments rather intensely for the last three days, and Arthur was quite tired with having to follow around Mr. Jones and the realtor. They would start early in the morning and continue until Mr. Jones complained loud enough and decided that he needed to go back to finish packing his stuff. In between his time looking around, Arthur was also packing up his place. Most of his books were in boxes, the clothes he wasn’t using bagged up, dishes put away and other little things. It was strange to know that all of his things fit into so few boxes, and even stranger for him to know that he was able to finish packing so quickly. _An advantage to no longer going to work, isn’t it? And maybe being able to obsessively clean for hours on end helps…_

 

“Even after we’re going to be living together, you're still going to call me Mr. Jones? Arthur, you’re really weird.” He chuckled softly, but then shrugged. They had been going back and forth about this all throughout the week. “But, yeah, I am. Everything’s in boxes.” Mr. Jones answered, coming up behind Arthur to look out the window. “We should probably let them know that we’ll take the place, right?” At this, Arthur nodded.

 

With the paperwork in, the landlord told them that they were definitely going to be able to get the apartment and that they would get approved quickly. Once the approval came in over the next couple of days, Mr. Jones decided to invite himself over to Arthur’s apartment and order take out. While the taller of the two was on the phone ordering, Arthur was moving the clutter off of the couch and clearing space off on the coffee table. When he was done, he sat down on one end of the couch and pressed his head into the cushion behind him. He let out a long and low sigh, followed by a tired groan. His neck, back and knees were killing him.

 

“Ah, okay, thanks. Have a nice night.” Mr. Jones pulled the phone from his face, hung up and then stuck it in his back pocket. Following Arthur’s lead, he plopped down on the couch, but laid across it and sprawled out his legs. The couch was too short for him however, the other end of the couch hitting mid-calf on the taller man.

 

“Excuse you.” Arthur lifted his head just enough to shoot a small glare over at Mr. Jones. The man simply cracked open an eye and smiled.

  
“Can I help you, Mr. Kirkland?” he replied.

 

“Get your legs off of me, please.”

 

“Only if you stop calling me Mr. Jones. I mean, really, Arthur, we’re going to be living with each other! If you call me that, I’ll feel like I’m in some business meeting, and not in my own living space.”

 

“But you’re my employer and it’s a sign of respect!” Arthur nearly growled, leaning forward and beginning to uselessly push at Mr. Jones’s legs. They were almost like a steel bar that went right in front of his chest and shoulders.

 

“I’m not budging until you call me Alfred!”

 

“Just move!” Arthur whined, irritation now seeping from every pore of his body.

 

“Just call me what I want to be called and I will!” The taller man was no longer joking and it was no longer about whether or not to move his legs. “Please, it would really mean a lot to me, okay? I would rather you see me as a friend rather than your employer. Wouldn’t it help you too? I mean, to help you feel less pressured in your own home?” He huffed out a sigh and started to relax his legs, no longer quite as steel-like.

 

“Do you really care how I feel about that?” Arthur muttered.

 

“Why does it bother you so much to call me by my own name?” The other bit back.

 

“Because…” Arthur started.

  
“You’re a stubborn ass?” Mr. Jones finished.

 

Arthur flashed another red hot glare at the other then released a sigh. He couldn’t strangle the person paying him, could he? “Yes! Fine! I’m a stubborn ass who just so happens to respect their boss! I’ve always known you as Mr. Jones, and I didn’t think you really wanted to-“ He huffed out an irritated puff of breath and shook his head, really not wanting to finish that statement. “I’ll call you Alfred, okay? Just get your legs off of me.”

 

“Say please.”

 

“Alfred, please take your bloody legs off of me.” Arthur hissed. Once the last word fell from his lips, Alfred pulled his legs back. He was still lying down, but he had his legs bent. Arthur reached forward and snatched up the remote from the coffee table, immediately turning the TV on.

 

The news caster on the screen was talking about some disturbing new trend in some other country and Arthur found himself bored in an instant. He probably would have been more interested in the fact that some people in Japan were injecting saline water into their foreheads and them shaping the bulb on their forehead into a donut shape, but he was distracted by his own thoughts. Turns out that the weird idea actually started in Canada. So, even though he wasn’t interested, at least he knew what a bagel head was now.

 

They watched various news stories while waiting for their food in near silence. The tension between them hadn’t completely gone away, but Alfred had seemed to calm down. Arthur only relaxed some, Alfred’s outburst still on his mind. There was actually a point in time where Arthur had started to drift off to sleep, but the sound of the doorbell ringing woke him up.

 

Alfred jolted upright and then nearly jumped off of the couch, all to rush to the door. Arthur was just starting to get out of his drowsy state when Alfred came to sit back down, bearing the bags of food.

 

“I’ll go get us some drinks. Water okay?” Arthur asked, standing up and stretching. Alfred seemed too consumed in finding his box of rice and orange chicken to even acknowledge Arthur, so he assumed that the answer was a yes. Once he came back with water bottles, Alfred had set aside his food and even opened Arthur’s chopsticks for him.

 

Again, they sat in silence, only the noises of chewing and the television filling the room. Even though Alfred seemed to be completely at ease, Arthur felt extremely uncomfortable. The whole name incident seemed to set him on edge. The way Alfred was being so outright with his words and just being so aggravating had made Arthur so tense.

 

Similar situations where things got tense had happened rather often in the past few days. The first morning was the kick off to all of this irritation. After they got the laptop earlier that week, Arthur had no idea how to use it. He got frustrated every time he tried to open it, and Alfred kept promising that they would get around to teaching him how to use it. Another example of this would be when Alfred had called around seven o’clock in the morning asking to see if Arthur was up yet. Arthur was, however, he had his phone on silent while he was making breakfast for himself. It was about an hour later when called Alfred back and when the other man answered, he was extremely whiny. From there, it only went downhill. Over the course of those days, Alfred had taken to eating dinner at Arthur’s. While Arthur was okay with Alfred buying meals for the two of them, he wasn’t okay with the way he ate. He scarfed down his food, devoured everything in a manner that could only be described as obnoxious. However, the taller man did the dishes before they were packed away and when the dishes were packed, he bought a bunch of disposable plates and silverware.

 

 _At least,_ Arthur thought. _He is thoughtful. But it doesn’t weigh out the fact that almost everything he does seriously bugs me._ He took another bite of his food, surprisingly not dropping any from his chopsticks. _I mean, I used to be able to make breakfast and go through my morning routine without any phone calls. I used to be able to enjoy sitting down and watching the news, or quietly reading a book. It has only been five days, and it has been exhausting. Will living with this guy be like that? Or is it just now?_

 

“Do you think we could get all of our stuff into that place within the week?” Alfred asked suddenly, drawing Arthur from his thoughts. Arthur looked up and shrugged, looking at the boxes in his living room.

 

“If all of your stuff is packed, we might be able to get everything in tomorrow. All I have to do is make my furniture moveable. Between the two of us and that truck your friend loaned you, we shouldn’t have too much of a problem.” Arthur replied quietly, almost at the same volume as the television.

 

“I took this week off so that we could get this all worked out. I’m going to be so busy next week, so I really won’t have time to do much around the place. I actually need to go out and buy a new bedroom set. I’ll probably do that tomorrow, so that I can have everything set up without having to maneuver around boxes.” Alfred set aside his chopsticks and leaned back, his box empty. “I’ll also go out and get some other things- cleaning supplies and the like. Or should that wait?”

 

“Once we get everything in, we should go together.” Arthur said, shrugging and setting aside his box as well. The food wasn’t quite as good as he had hoped, and it was just too salty for his liking. “That way, we can do a grocery run as well.”

 

“It’s crazy how quickly all of this is happening, honestly.” Alfred laughed. “I mean, five days! It took me a while to get the house, and even longer to find the place I was staying at before I moved there.” He laughed through his nose this time; an awkward noise that Arthur decided was kind of funny.

 

“It’s a whirlwind.” Arthur leaned back as well, this time pulling his knees up to his chest. He muted the television. “It must be because you’re so well-known and you’re loaded. Everyone wants to make sure you’re happy.”

 

At this, Alfred rolled his eyes and nodded. “Hah! And I’m just trying to make _you_ happy. You’re the one who needs to write. I’m just here because I’m a loser who doesn’t know how to take care of myself. It’s funny how all of that actually goes, huh?” He rolled his neck so that he was looking over at Arthur.

 

However, Arthur was still trying to make sense of that first comment. _Just trying to make me happy? He does make sense of it when he explained why, but still, it’s just such a weird statement._

“You make me sound as if I’m much more than I am, Mr. Jo-“ Arthur stopped himself when Alfred’s lips dropped into a frown. “Alfred.”

 

“Your book kept me going when she suggested that we get a divorce.” Alfred replied quietly after a few seconds pause. “I reread it at least seven times in just that month alone. Your words are comforting and they really do help people out there. Have you seen the reviews your book gets?”

 

“No, actually, I didn’t have a computer.” Arthur deadpanned.  


“Nonetheless, what you did helped me, and you’ve earned my respect. I want you to be able to continue to inspire people. That’s why I’m doing all of this.” He paused and smiled some. “I’m really glad that I actually saw your name on spine. I have held that book in my hand so many times, but I just never looked at who created it until last week. That’s stupid, isn’t it?”

 

Arthur didn’t respond. Instead he simply stared back with wide eyes. He tried to tear his gaze from Alfred’s piercing one, but the moment was just so intense. It took him a moment to finally look away, staring down at his hands in his lap.

 

“You are an idiot, for not looking at the spine. If you like a book, you should try to find out if the author has written other ones.” He said quietly, fidgeting with his hands. _Why am I so uncomfortable right now?_ “Will you take out the garbage? It’s starting to smell.” He asked, a request to change the subject and get Alfred away. Alfred nodded and got up, leaving to do as asked.

 

Arthur felt his shoulders relax when the front door closed. Pulling his knees into his chest, he sighed. Alfred may have been so extremely irritating at times, but he was always so sincere. It was strange just how much Arthur had learned about his boss in just the past few days alone. They had gone from just simply dealing with each other in an office space, purposely not getting to know each other out of professionalism, to almost-friends moving in with each other. Arthur had found out Alfred’s favorite color, why he hates marmite, what his favorite type of music is and a bunch of other little things in these past few days. It was strange to the writer that Alfred was willing to live with him and vice versa, and that Arthur had so easily agreed to it. He was pretty sure at this point, that it was out of pity but at the same time, he couldn’t be so sure.

 

But Arthur didn’t know the man very well, and hadn’t lived with anyone in a long time. It freaked him out some to know that there was going to be another being in his space- that someone else will be there and that they will have to get along otherwise Arthur might end up without a job. He was being paid to write, but what would happen if he couldn’t? Would Alfred get frustrated with him and kick Arthur out? How would Alfred handle the situation if Arthur was to write for him but couldn’t? Would Alfred want to stop being friends with him?

 

_There are too many variables to letting your boss be your roommate and friend._

“Don’t think so negatively, Arthur!” A familiar squeaky voice cheered. The little bunny from his imagination poofed into his vision from whatever fantasy world it lived in. Arthur’s lips twitched into a frown and he shook his head.

 

“You know how I am with people, though.” He mumbled into his knees.

 

“He’s patient with you. He’s really trying to make sure you’re comfortable, and if you aren’t you should tell him! He really wants to be your friend, you know that, right? He’s not just trying to mess with your emotions like you think he is.” The mint bunny replied, flittering right in front of Arthur’s face.

 

“But what about the whole writing thing?” Arthur groaned, pressing his cheek into his knee. “I mean, what happens if what I write next… what if he doesn’t like it?”

 

“He practically worships the ground you walk on, Arthur.” The imaginary creature replied with a titter. “Even if you write something he doesn’t like, he’ll encourage you on.”

 

“You really think so?” Arthur lifted his head and raised a tentative eyebrow. “He always seemed so unpredictable at work though.”

 

Mint Bunny sighed, shaking its oversized head. “This is different.”  He said simply, not offering any other words. The creature disappeared as soon as there was a knock at the door. Arthur startled some, lifting his head up as the door was pushed open and Alfred stepped back in.

 

“I hope you didn’t mind, but I left the door unlocked so I could come back in.” Alfred said as he ducked into the kitchen to wash his hands. “I ran into that lady from the front office when I dropped everything off. She told me to tell you that she will miss you and that we should probably let the new landlord know about your frequent burning of food.” Alfred laughed at this, but Arthur snorted in response- a sound not heard over the hissing of the faucet.

 

“Well, there’s something wrong with this oven and stove.” Arthur said as soon as Alfred appeared in the entryway to the kitchen, a hand towel slung over his shoulder. The taller man bellowed out a laugh.

 

“Sounds like a user error, honestly.” He said once he was done. Arthur rolled his eyes in response.

 

“Well, burnt toast is good for your complexion.” The writer responded nonchalantly, repeating what his mother used to tell him.

 

“Whatever, Artie-“ Alfred began a small smile starting to spread over his lips. However, Arthur wasn’t quite as receptive to the new nickname as Alfred thought he would be.

 

“ _What did you just call me_?” Arthur spat out in an instant, whirling his head around to glare at Alfred. The taller man’s eyes flew wide and he put his hands up by his head, taking a step back defensively.

 

“I just called you Artie! Nothing bad! Holy shit, man- you could kill someone with that glare!”

 

“ _Don’t call me that_.” Arthur hissed, his eyes merely slits now.

 

“Alright! Alright! Just stop looking at me like that!” Alfred pulled his hands down to his sides and was still leaning back as if Arthur had been a poisonous snake ready to jump at him, rather than just an irritated man.

 

Arthur dropped the glare, but left the frown on his lips. He huffed a breath out of his nose before looking away from Alfred. “Thanks for taking out the garbage.”

 

“I’ll take that as an ‘I’m sorry for lashing out at you.’” Alfred muttered as he took his place at the other end of the couch.

 

“A ‘you’re welcome’ would have sufficed.” Arthur snorted.

 

“I guess you don’t want to tell me why you flipped now, so I’ll save that inquiry for another day. Do you want me to go?” The question trailed off of Alfred’s tongue, almost as if he didn’t want Arthur to actually hear the question and make him go.

 

“You can go if you want, but I still need help setting up that laptop. I don’t know what you had in mind when you set me up with a touch screen thing.” Arthur let his voice soften some after a moment, trying to be less cold. He was really having issues with the new laptop; there were way too many boxes popping up on the screen, asking him to activate this and that, and he wasn’t sure what any of it was.

 

Arthur wasn’t sure why he felt his heart beat a little harder when Alfred smiled and agreed to stay and help, but he wasn’t going to let it show. _Must be stress or something._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading "To Find a Muse"! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated and are made of awesome. This project is going to be approximately 12 chapters.


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